


We're All Sensitive People

by kiki-eng (kiki_eng)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_eng/pseuds/kiki-eng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>When Patrick goes to the next meeting with the AV people he gets a round of applause when he walks in. Gabe tells him that he is "So proud of you, grasshopper, for heeding my advice and spicing up your life and making a difference with music."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're All Sensitive People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyfoxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/gifts).



> Thanks to sobluethesky for helping out and to sinesofinsanity and starwire for the beta work.

"Oh my god, this is _amazing_ , Gerard."

"I know," he says. "The freshmen this year are awesome. The freshmen are always awesome, but I really like these freshmen."

Patrick glances up from the English essay he's working on at his table and smiles at the back of Gerard's head; Gerard's the head of the AV club and really supportive, if weird. He's been really friendly and welcoming of everyone who showed up for the radio club thing. Patrick's glad he signed up; he has lots of different people to talk music with now who are really passionate and knowledgeable about it. 

"French songs about roller girls!" the same girl says, waving a fry around in her hand. She has dyed-black hair that sort of matches Gerard's, except that it looks a lot neater and cleaner.

"I do love me some roller girls," the brunette girl next to her says and Patrick tries to tune out their conversation and the music playing over the cafeteria speakers so that he can go back to working on his paper.

"Roller girls are super hot," Gabe says. "Tennessee has pretty awesome taste, even if she is basically stuck in the sixties."

"At least it's not just one genre. At least she always has a different mix."

Patrick can feel himself tensing up, because they're totally talking about him now and he didn't think that people would really notice or care but obviously someone did. _Fiddlesticks._

"Oh god," someone groans.

 _Oh god._ Patrick glances furtively up.

"I just want to listen to something made in the last fifteen years or so at this point," some guy in eyeliner whines.

" _I_ play things made in the past fifteen years," Gabe says, affronted.

"I miss rock. I miss punk," he goes on.

"He played a bunch of Bowie when he started," Franks points out.

"-and then he discovered Motown," someone else puts in.

 _Oh god._ This is terrible. He knows, or sort of knows, like, a third of that table from the club, but he's apparently invisible in that everyone he knows at that table is facing away from him and none of them can see him or maybe they've just forgotten he's here because he's been trying to get his paper done in time and he can feel himself hunching up and it's like his shoulder blades are trying to meet each other and this is all very painful and embarrassing. 

"I think he got stuck. He needs to move on, and get over this Marvin Gaye thing and stop assaulting me with his musical journey."

"He's expanding your musical background, Pete."

"No, he isn't, because he keeps on playing the same fucking songs."

Patrick is just going to leave quietly. It's pretty obvious that no one knows he's here or that he's hearing this, and he needs not to be this pink. He can _feel_ that his face is flushed. 

Putting together a mix is hard, okay? Getting new music is expensive or it takes forever. He only DJs two days a week and he's only used the same mix over again a few times. He didn't think people would care this much? He was wrong, obviously.

He's going to get better at this, he thinks as he escapes the lunch room, but he's still going to play Motown. He _likes_ Motown. He likes DJ-ing. He's not going to let someone ruin that for him.

~*~

He spends a bit more time on his next mix than he has for the last couple of ones he’s made. He downloads a couple songs overnight, chooses a couple of his favorites and pulls everything into an order that he really likes. He's really happy with it and spends his next period as a DJ just kind of bobbing along to it, grooving. He's all centred after and he feels fantastic. 

When he gets out of the sound room Joe's waiting and smiling at him and when he salutes him with his soda pop Patrick laughs and he just feels _lit up_.

He makes Joe snort with laughter, which is pretty great.

"That was good," he says admiringly. "You were good. I thought you didn't like the mic, though."

"What?"

"You had the mic on today." 

Apparently _Oh god, what did I do?_ is written on his face because Joe tells him. "You sang _Let's Get It On_. I thought it was like a statement or something."

"I don't want to make out with you, Joe," he says from behind the hand clawing at his face and from under the wave of terror washing over him. 

"That's good; I don't want to make out with you, either. I thought it was, like, a subtle jab at abstinence only education and the way so many of our educators fail us, covering only the bare minimum that's laid out in the curriculum because talking about sex makes them uncomfortable. I thought you were, like, confronting them with the reality of teenage sexuality."

"That's... really interesting, Joe. I don't take health until next semester."

Joe nods like Patrick's just said something profound and that punk friend of Gerard's with the eyeliner passes them in the hall and Patrick didn't know people's eyes actually twinkled. This is going to suck so much.

When Patrick goes to the next meeting with the AV people he gets a round of applause when he walks in. Gabe tells him that he is "So proud of you, grasshopper, for heeding my advice and spicing up your life and making a difference with music."

It's not as terrible as Patrick thought it would be. He gets teased about it but it feels friendly. A couple of the AV people talk about embarrassing tech mistakes that they've made and he relaxes a little. 

It's fine. It's not like some nightmare situation where he walks down the hall and everyone clears out of his way and whispers behind their hands and points and laughs at him. Most people don't know who he is and this hasn't changed that. 

So he lets his guard down and he's completely unprepared for Gerard's cute eyeliner friend being a douche a few weeks later. He's sitting in the hallway floor with his friend, playing speed, when Patrick goes to his locker early one morning. He smiles at Patrick like he recognises him, which is kind of awesome, but then he starts talking to his friend about Patrick, like he didn't just recognise him, about how amazing he thinks Patrick's voice is and his complete disdain for Patrick's musical selection, how he hates Patrick's music but isn't listening to his walkman when he DJs anymore because he doesn't want to miss an _encore performance_ because he's so in love with Patrick's voice he'd listen to him sing commercial jingles.

Patrick glances at him and eyeliner guy sees him looking and the freaking edges of his mouth curl up and Patrick needs to leave before he launches himself at him in a fit of rage, so he takes it out on his locker door, a bit, and goes to be somewhere else.

It's like that guy - Pete, apparently - is everywhere Patrick goes after that - posing for yearbook photos with his shitty just legal tattoos and wiping his face after soccer practice with his shirt as rivulets of sweat run down his torso and - okay, he's hot but Patrick basically still wants to throw him through drywall. He's trying to be a better person, though.

It's like Patrick is hyper-aware of where Pete is these days, and maybe it goes both ways because it feels like every time he glances at Pete he catches Pete looking at him, or Pete looks up and catches Patrick looking at him; it's infuriating. 

The first couple of times it happened Pete put on this "Who, me? What?" face like he hadn't made fun of Patrick to his face and didn't understand what was going on.

Now when Patrick's eyes hit on Pete across the lunch room and Pete glances up at him Pete doesn't look confused, which is worse, because now the eye contact is incredibly confusing.

Patrick's decided that he doesn't want to think about it. If he thinks about it Pete wins.

~*~

"Stump! Patrick! My young friend! Let me take you away from all of this and make you an offer." Gabe says, looming over him; it's one of Tennessee's days to DJ and Gabe is apparently bored. "Smoothies! Down the street, just the two of us. I will take you in my fabulous car and we can converse."

"Alright," Patrick says. It's not like he has plans and Gabe's always entertaining.

His car's at least ten years old and smells somewhat worryingly of gasoline, but it runs and it gets them to the smoothie place. Gabe insists on paying for Patrick and choosing where they sit and he's solemnly staring into Patrick's eyes and Patrick's starting to seriously contemplate the wisdom of his choices when Gabe starts talking.

"I have taken upon my myself the role of emissary betwixt you and my lovelorn friend. He heard your singing voice all those weeks ago and wants to make beautiful music with you."

"...I play drums." Patrick says blankly.

"I know, I told him but he would hear nothing of it. He insists that you are a singer."

"I'm really not. Is there a reason he can't talk to me himself?"

"Pete's convinced that it would be impossible to figure out who you are without coming off as a stalker. He worries, these days."

"Pete Wentz?" Patrick asks, dubiously.

"Ah," Gabe says, nodding, "You have heard of his exploits."

" _Pete Wentz_ doesn't know who I am? _Seriously?_ "

"Yes?"

"Are you-? What are you doing here, Gabe?" Gabe's a mischief-maker but Patrick didn't think he was _mean_. Patrick thought Gabe liked him.

"I'm trying to set you two up,” Gabe explains, seriously. “He's my friend and I think you'd like him but you're kind of-" Gabe breaks off to telegraph something incomprehensible with his hands. "So I thought I'd help you two. He's going to be at my party tonight. You should come and meet him. Tennessee's coming and you can bring Greta or your friend with the really terrible hair. You don't have to start a band with Pete."

"He doesn't know who I am?" If Pete doesn't know who Patrick is he's not really sure how to explain all of the mutual staring that's been going on and this might mean that the flirty looks Pete sometimes sends him aren't part of an elaborate campaign of psychological torture.

"It's like he's the prince and you're Cinderella and your voice is the shoe... except he has no idea what you look like and he's mostly interested in your shoes. ...This is a terrible metaphor. Why do you keep asking that question?"

"He- he smiled at me, like, right after when everyone was laughing about it and he was talking to someone, like, right next to me about how he hates all of the music that I play and he was just, so- I thought he knew who I was and was making fun of me."

"He definitely doesn't know who you are and his musical taste is not to be trusted. He is sort of an asshole but you should meet him."

~*~

Patrick almost doesn't show up at all. Greta already had plans, Joe was grounded for something he didn't want to talk about, and Patrick sort of doesn't want to meet Pete because he knows that's going to be weird and awkward. 

Gerard passes him on his way out at the end of the school day and says, "Hey! Gabe says you're coming tonight. I'll see you later!" though, so Patrick knows there are at least three people at that party that he can hang out with that aren't Pete.

He's standing with Tennessee and Ryan, who's talking about how much he loves Gainsbourg and Bardot when he notices Pete. He tries to pretend that he didn't so that he doesn't have to face him yet, because he's not really sure what's been going on between the two of them if Pete wasn't making fun of him that day.

Patrick's plan to buy himself some time absolutely doesn't work, though, because Pete comes right on over and introduces himself. 

"Hey, I'm Pete," he says and finds out that they're all freshmen and who their teachers are. He starts talking about the ones he and his friends have had over the years, and then it turns out that Ryan's read Pete's blog and is really into his poetry. Pete laughs ruefully and says something self-deprecating while he looks at Patrick.

"Oh," Ryan says. "Oh, hey, Tennessee, we should go see if there's punch in the kitchen."

" _Yes_ ," she says, starting off.

"We'll see you around," Ryan says as Tennessee leads him off by his wrist.

"Hey," Pete says to Patrick, smiling, after they’ve gone.

"I- yeah- hey," Patrick says and fiddles with his hat. 

They end up staring at each other, and Patrick's thinking that this should feel less awkward because of all the practice they've had or that they should maybe just be done with this because they've spent so much time on it, when Pete's facial expression changes abruptly.

"Fuck it," he says, and surges forward and kisses Patrick. 

It's not great, but that's probably equally on Patrick. He's trying to adjust here, because apparently Pete hasn't been making fun of him, hasn't been malicious, and they've been trading loaded glances for a while. It’s a lot to take in.

Patrick gets his hands on Pete's shoulders when he pulls away, because he doesn't want him to go anywhere just yet. Pete's hot and charismatic and a little bit strange and Patrick doesn't have a lot of experience kissing people, but if Pete's interested in kissing him Patrick wants. 

He puts a hand on Pete’s face and guides him a little bit forward. Patrick kisses him slowly and he tastes a little bit like the beer he must have had earlier. It's a good beginning, he thinks.

"Hey, you found each other," Gabe says, because the rest of the world doesn't go away just because Patrick stops paying attention to it.

They pull away from each other and Pete breathily says, "Yeah."

"Did he tell you that he plays the trumpet, too?" Gabe asks, knowingly.

"You play the trumpet?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm better at guitar and piano and I'm really a better drummer than anything else, but yeah."

Pete's eyes have gone really wide and he's staring at Patrick really intensely again. "You're the singer," he says.

Patrick tears his eyes away from Pete to look at Gabe, whose eyebrows are really high. They fall back down and Gabe says, "Patrick Stump, Motown aficionado and musical genius, meet Pete Wentz, bassist and poet."

“You heard me talking about you that day,” Pete says to Patrick, slowly. “You looked pissed, but you weren’t-” Pete’s voice changes and he looks so perplexed when he finishes, “jealous of yourself?”

“Um. No. I, uh- thought you were making fun of me.” 

“Absolutely not, no. You’re great, and you’re... fine with-” Pete glances down at where Patrick’s fingers are twisted in the hem of Pete’s shirt, “with making out with a guy.”

“Yes,” Patrick says.

“And there’s no gay freak-out.”

“Not unless you’re…” Patrick trails off, because if this ends in rejection he’s going to go home and listen to The Cure for a week solid.

Gabe snorts loudly. 

“I’ve suddenly remembered that I need to go check on the punch,” he says. “Excuse me.”

“No,” Pete says, leaning in to kiss Patrick again, “I’m pretty comfortable with my sexuality.” Pete’s smiling when he kisses Patrick and it makes Patrick smile, too, before pulling away, laughing.

Then Pete’s pulling a pen out from his pocket and he says, “Let me give you my number. I’m serious about starting a band, and you should call me, generally. Any time.”

It’s a little ridiculous and then more so when Pete starts writing on Patrick’s arm; it’s a weird feeling. When Pete’s finished Patrick’s got his number written down on his arm and also his name in big capital letters.

“I know you’re sensitive about this,” Pete says, seriously “and I’ve been really trying- to hold back this feeling...”

“Shut up,” Patrick says, cutting him off. “Gabe was totally right about you; you’re an asshole.” 

Patrick’s laughing, though, and he presses a quick kiss to Pete’s lips.

Gabe was maybe right with his metaphor, too, because this feels like some kind of fractured fairy tale, and Patrick doesn't think that it's going to be that simple, but he wants to know where it goes, because right now things are pretty great; it's a _great_ beginning.


End file.
